


Between Bonfires and Padded Cells

by Barnbabe007



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 05:05:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14687085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barnbabe007/pseuds/Barnbabe007
Summary: Just a missing scene that has been rolling around in my head since finding out Caleb's backstory.  I tried to keep it general enough as we don't know the full story yet but wanted to put my thoughts onto paper.  This is my first Fanfic, be gentle with me and am welcoming others to take my prompt and run with it on their own.*Caleb breaking and how he got to the asylum.





	Between Bonfires and Padded Cells

The smell is the thing that lingers the longest; the screams die, Caleb acclimates to the heat but his sense of smell is the last to numb. He’s not sure if he could tell the difference between his parent’s burning flesh and roast that he ate earlier in the night.

“Caleb?” Ostrid sounds like she is underwater and he barely registers Aedwulf’s touch. Suddenly, the pain in his head is all consuming, he screams in agony as his head pounds like 1000 ogres dancing. 

He remembers his parents speaking of rebellion; fighting against the empire that he was so sure that they supported. Yet, he also remembers that same moment differently. His father reading aloud to his mother as she sewed the holes in their clothing. Two sets of his parents in the same room playing out different events of that horrible night. Except, the set speaking of using their son’s place within the academy, his position and standing as a pupil of Trent Ikithon slowly fade; replaced by the parents that he remembers so well. Loving, attentive, completely and utterly devoted to each other. How could he remember two things at the same time?

Aedwulf and Ostrid are gone now; distracting the growing crowd of their fellow villagers. Trying to direct the effort in putting out the fire, in voicing their false concern for their own parents. Caleb’s thoughts cluttered his mind; Trent must have done this? Why did he do this? Did he do this to the others? Were they the first or latest in a long line of “Beacons”? His mother always said his mind was like a bee hive, a million thoughts flying around in his head at the same time. His poor, sweet mother; he turned the home that she was so proud of into her pyre.

“He lied.” The only thing that Caleb could latch onto before emptying his stomach beside the old tree near his home. The one his father carved his name into as a boy, as his grandfather did before him. The one that Caleb used to scratch Arcane symbols into; his first spell book. As he tried to steady himself and call out to his companions, reveal the truth, there was a voice in his head.

“Such a waste of potential.” Caleb turns and Trent is emerging from the tree, as if he and it were one. Before he could alert anyone, Trent’s hands grabbed Caleb’s head in a vice like grip and then there was nothing. Just dirt, smoke and a voice strangely sounding like his own, muttering the same word over and over again.

Nein.

 

A FEW DAYS LATER...

 

“Master Ikithon, to what do I owe the pleasure?” A man clothed in grey, harshly textured fabric bows slightly as the wizard approaches him and the locked cell. If one were to look at this Doctor closely, they would describe him as average. Average height, build and his voice though a nice timber was just that, average. He seemed as colorful and interesting as the Asylum uniform that he wore.

“What is his condition?” Master Trent Ikithon was never really one for small talk, he preferred to speak bluntly but could slither his way through conversation with the best in the empire. 

“The boy is completely catatonic. We have him subdued just in case but it seems you broke another one of your toy soliders. Shall we keep him to the same plan as the others?” The man looks from Ikithon through the small peep hole in the door to Caleb's cell: his greasy hair clumped together in front of his face and simple clothing made of the same grey fabric as the Doctor but much dirtier, stained from previous patients. Caleb is strapped into an oddly designed jacket; instead of his arms at his side, they are crossed over his body as if he were hugging himself. The jacket had symbols a darker shade of grey embroidered into it and if the already minimal lighting was just right, the symbols seemed to glow. Under different circumstances, the jacket may have been beautiful but in the dark and dirty cell, walls softened for Caleb’s own safety, it just seemed sad.

“No, we must wait. The boy is too closely associated with myself and the other children, any harm to him may bring unwanted attention to us.”

“What a shame and such a pretty boy too.” The doctor took one final look at Caleb before closing the peep hole; he and Master Ikithon walked through the private wing towards the section for those in high standing with the empire or those who had called in favors. This part was in stark contrast to Caleb’s more secure section. This area was well lit, windows open to let in fresh air and the patients in this wing wore lovely pure white linen gowns that looked like they were spun from clouds.

“He was the brightest of my students, such skill and potential. I underestimated his power to break through the implanted memory. I will not underestimate him again.”

“I have not seen a spell like this before; if I wasn’t familiar with your work, I would have said that he was feeble minded. I hope you could tell me more, I would like to study its effects in further detail.” The Doctor, if he could be called that, looked at Master Ikithon with a sparkle in his eye usually reserved for a child receiving a new toy.

“A very old spell, I am still studying it myself but I will admit that despite the circumstances, it is nice to test its effects. Please send me your notes.”

“Of course. If he does break through this ‘cloud’ you placed over him, what then? What if the boy opens his eyes one day and is just as devoted to you as he was when you took him to your little cabin in the woods?” The doctor stopped just before his office door.

“If he parts the clouds, do to him what you did to the others. Caleb was always a smart and clever boy, but he could not tell a lie if his parent’s life depended on it. Make no mistake, I will not let some cabbage patch magician be my undoing. I have worked far too long.” Trent takes a step closer, bends his head towards the Doctor’s ear. “If I fall, you will fall with me.”

“You are quite a poet Master Ikithon. May the Empire’s glory shine upon you.” Before the Doctor can rise from his elaborate bow, he is already gliding around the corner towards the entrance where two others, a young man and woman wait for him patiently. As they pass through the doors, Master Ikithon raises both his hands and all three of them begin to rise.


End file.
